


Back To Where I'm From

by CityOfPaperBuildings



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Bucky has issues, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Gen, Natasha POV, Red Room!Bucky, This is going to get so Jossed, but is pretty badass, injuries, mission-based, very loosely based on trailer footage and comics canon from Brubaker's arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CityOfPaperBuildings/pseuds/CityOfPaperBuildings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after my imagined ending of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Bucky is captured and brought into SHIELD. This is the story of how he learns to cope after being the Winter Soldier for so long, and the family he finds with his teammates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been kicking around in my WiP folder for the longest time and I simply had to get it out before the film premiers.
> 
> My eternal thanks to chaneen for the superb beta job and to sirona for telling me this was a story worth pursuing. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Summary edited 12.03.14 because the last one was terrible.

The debrief had been going on for hours. Hill covered every moment of the mission from start to finish, and it had been all Natasha could do not to get up and walk out. The mission had drained her, both physically and emotionally, and she used up the last of her reserves as they went over and over every angle of how they’d brought James in.

Finally, she was dismissed and could stumble to the quarters she’d been assigned, where she could shut the door and could stop pretending that she was fine. She hadn’t been allowed to crack, to show the strain she was under, because Steve had needed her. He’d known, all along, that the man they sought and had captured had been his best friend, and he hadn’t said a word until they got to the debriefing room.

When she’d known James, it was clear he had a past, something he either couldn’t or wouldn’t remember, but this was more than she ever could have anticipated. SHIELD had known her past with him; the two of them were intrinsically linked, as their files referenced each other over and over again. No one had known that the Winter Soldier, James, was also Bucky Barnes, best friend and brother in arms to Captain America. But Steve had known. He’d known from the very first photo he was shown, eyes piercing through the black ops paint and mask, but he’d kept quiet. If anyone was going to bring Bucky home, it was going to be Steve.

She sank down to the floor, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her forehead on them. She inhaled shakily, but when tears welled in her eyes, she tilted her head back, determined not to let them fall. He was here. He was safe. But would he remember her? Not the times when they’d only been their codenames to one another, the Red Room’s best operatives sent out to fell Soviet enemies and catalyse the collapse of regimes, but the brief moments when he’d been James and she’d been Natalia. Would he remember the promises they’d made to get out and not look back? Would he resent her for leaving him in that hell? Would he...?

The questions were too numerous, her thoughts scattered, but the overwhelming feeling was relief. A weight had been lifted that she’d carried for so long she could barely remember a time without it.

//

They returned to New York as James’ prisoner escorts, but once SHIELD had him tucked away, James’ mere existence was classified far above her clearance level. She used every trick she knew and called in almost all her favours, but it got her nowhere. Fury had stonewalled her, classifying all files at Level 10. Everyone she asked said the same thing, “Trust the system,” much to her disdain. They’d told Coulson to trust the system and look where that had got him, 8 days of operations and god knows what else, just to bring him back. Coulson was a different man today than before New York, but he was here, and really, that’s all she could have asked for.

Days turned into weeks, and still they were given no word. Steve destroyed every punching bag SHIELD had and was forced to return to the Avengers Tower to use the ones Tony had built for him. She sat up with Steve at night, looking out over the city, sometimes talking, sometimes not, as they waited to be read in.

Finally, Fury called them to his office and handed them a box of files, which were under no circumstances to leave the building. They spent the next two days and nights catching up on the past two months’ worth of reports filed by the medics, the psychologists, the therapists, and everyone else James had come into contact with. 

It’s a long, slow, almost torturous business, recreating a man, and Tasha knew this better than most. Stripping away the false memories, the programming, the Soviet allegiance which had been drilled into James time and time again. Luckily for SHIELD, it was his natural instinct to fight the Russian influence – a battle which the Soviets had long waged – but he was wracked with guilt. The reports showed that he’d known from the minute he’d been given his mission that Captain America, the man he’d been sent to kill, meant something to him, but it wasn’t until that moment on the rooftop, when he’d caught Steve’s shield, that he’d remembered. Everything had come flooding back to him in a tidal wave, and he’d chosen to run, out of fear, unable to reconcile the two worlds which clashed in his mind.

Tasha made sure that from that point on she and Steve knew when each meeting with James was taking place and that they’d receive the reports afterwards, but she sensed Steve’s frustration with how slow the progress was. It didn’t really come as a surprise to her when one day she was given a hastily written report on an incident which had taken place that morning. 

According to his account, Steve couldn’t bear to watch James suffer any more and had broken into his treatment room. He’d dragged James out of his chair and wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug. Guards and medical personnel reported that they had rushed in after him, but stopped in their tracks when they saw James relax, the tension visibly leaving his body as, slowly, he brought his arms up and wrapped them tentatively around the man he’d been taught was the enemy.

The transcript of the event was attached:

James Barnes: “Steve?”

Steven Rogers: “Hey, Buck, how you feeling?”

James Barnes: “Safe.”

//

After reading the report, Natasha’s heart had jumped a little, her hopes raised that perhaps soon she could see James, who apparently now went by ‘Bucky’, but it wasn’t that simple. How could it be? SHIELD was still worried about his ability to come to terms with his time as the Winter Soldier. He had to learn that although his body had committed atrocities, his mind had not; the man he was now would not do these things again. SHIELD taught him how to manage his reactions when the memories rose to the surface, triggered by the smallest details, and how to calm his mind when his past was hammering at his skull.

Two weeks passed. Two weeks of intensive hypnotherapy sessions and hours spent with the best psychologists on the payroll, and then Natasha got the call.

Dr. Knight was waiting outside the door to his treatment room, and nodded in greeting as she approached. They had spent many hours together after Clint brought her in.

“Doctor,” she acknowledged him. “What’s going on?” Her heart was beating a little faster than it should be. A mixture of hope and worry swirled in her stomach.

“Bucky and I have been exploring the missions he undertook when he was under Soviet control. Today we were discussing Budapest, and it’s caused him a great deal of distress. I think he’s looking for your forgiveness.”

Natasha pressed her lips together. Budapest had been the site of her extraction. She and Clint had cemented their alliance fighting back to back against what seemed like a never-ending wave of Red Room operatives, the last of whom had been James.

Her heart had stopped for a moment when she saw him, because she knew then in all certainty that the Red Room would rather have her dead than free on US soil. But she also knew that James had been out on a mission for the past two weeks, and after a certain amount of time he fought the Russian control. She’d had to place her hope in this because the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

She’d yelled at Clint that she was going after the Soldier and run before he could stop her. The two of them clashed as they had done hundreds of times before in training sessions, but this time fighting to kill. For a while, Natasha had the upper hand, but an explosion to her right was strong enough that the blast forced her to turn her head, leaving her neck exposed. In that instant, she’d felt cold metal fingers curl around her throat. She’d fought for air, her eyes wide with terror locking onto his, and she’d seen James looking back at her, his blue eyes matching her fear.

“Natalia, I don’t have control of the arm,” he’d muttered.

She’d known what he wanted her to do. There was a device in the synthetic nerves, which sat just below the join where the arm met his shoulder. They’d found it after one firefight in which James had been shot in the shoulder. She’d detached the arm, as she had done many times before, except this time there was a small black box just inside the join. They’d guessed at what it could be, but this moment cemented their worst fears – the Soviets knew James was shrugging off their control with increasing frequency, and this was their failsafe in case he decided not to complete the mission they’d given him.

With deft fingers and no time to lose, she’d found the catches which held the arm on and released them. As she’d pulled the arm away, the fingers around her neck went slack, once they were deprived of the electricity from James’ body.

She’d looked at him as she threw the arm to the ground. They’d known then that this was likely going to be the last time they saw each other as they truly were. The Red Room would make certain that the next time they sent the Soldier after the Widow, there would be no survivors.

“Run,” he’d whispered, and she had. They’d both agreed a long time ago that if either of them could get out, they should, and never look back.

She looked at the doctor. “Let’s go.”

He led the way, and she followed close behind.

“Bucky, I’ve brought you a visitor.”

The man who Natasha had known for years as the Soldier, and for moments as James, was curled up in the corner of the couch. He looked at her, and her heart stilled. She stood awkwardly in the doorway, not quite knowing how he would react to this situation.

“Natalia?” he’d asked, his voice quiet.

“It’s Natasha here. Tasha, if you’d like,” she said with a small smile. It’s just another moniker; different city, different name, the way it always had been.

He nodded, understanding. They’d both changed names and stories as often as they changed their clothes, never being the same people twice. He motioned for her to come in and she sat on the edge of a cushion next to him. She was never awkward; the Black Widow was always confident and self-assured. You don’t get anywhere in her line of work with awkward. Yet here she was, unsure and skittish.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she ventured. “And that it didn’t end the way we always thought it would.”

“It nearly did though,” he said, worrying the edge of the cushion, avoiding her gaze.

She reached out to him, wrapping her fingers around his. “But it didn’t and that’s all that matters. We’ve made it out, we’ve kept our promises, and now we both get our second chance at life.”

He relaxed as she spoke, the earlier signs of distress no longer visible.

“I’ll let you get back to your session,” she said softly. “But I’m here, if you need me.”

//

It was another month after Natasha’s initial visit to Bucky before he was finally declared to no longer be a threat to national security. This meant the next meeting he took was with Fury and Coulson, who handed him a mountain of paperwork and a pen. He was to be a probationary Agent, assigned to the Avengers, just as Tasha and Clint were, but primarily in the employ of SHIELD. Privately, Bucky thought the only reason he was being given this opportunity was that these people were the only ones who could take him out if the occasion arose, but honestly, he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his days locked away. He had some chance at redemption but now that this was a reality, Bucky found it a daunting prospect. These people were legends, a god in one case. How could Bucky hold his own in the same room? What would he say to them?

Steve assured him repeatedly that it would be fine, they’d all love him, but Bucky was hesitant and employed every delaying tactic possible. He knew Tony didn’t exactly have a great deal of warm feelings towards the Russians, Clint might see a second elite marksman as a threat, Bruce was almost unreadable, which Bucky found incredibly unnerving, and he had no clue as to how a Norse god would react to anything! The situation was full of unknown variables, and every nerve ending in his body screamed at him to avoid it.

Of course, his fears turned out to be entirely unfounded. One Sunday morning, Steve lured him to the Avengers Tower with the promise of a quiet brunch. He’d handily neglected to mention that this was a team brunch, a regular occurrence with as many of them as were in town at the time. This Sunday, the whole gang turned up, even Thor, and so when the elevator doors opened Bucky was greeted by the sight of domesticity, as the group moved around each other in the rhythms of people who clearly knew each other well. Thor, it seemed, had just arrived and was greeting everyone at great volume. Music was playing, Clint was on pancakes; Steve was looking after bacon and sausages; Tasha was chopping peppers, onions, and potatoes to add to the eggs with the ease of someone well-practiced with knives; and Bruce was setting the table. Tony was guarding the coffee pot with extreme jealousy, and frowning at something on his tablet, absently moving his legs out of Bruce’s way as he moved round the table. It seemed like perfect harmony, and Bucky felt as though he should leave so as not to interrupt it. This plan was squashed, though, the moment Tony looked up.

“Barnes! Come in, you’re just in time, how do you feel about brushed steel?” he asked as he sprang across the floor and back again, ushering Bucky in, one arm looped easily around his shoulders. Bucky could only look at him, bewilderment written all over his face.

“Jeez Tony, give the guy a minute, will you?” said Clint, without looking up from the stove, as he added to the growing mountain of pancakes next to him.

Suddenly, Bruce appeared at his side offering a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, which Bucky accepted, glad to have something to do with his hands. An affectionate squeeze of the shoulder, and Bruce was gone as quickly and quietly as he’d appeared.

Thor was less subtle, clapping Bucky on the back with great gusto, causing some of the juice to slop out of the glass. “Noble warrior! We have not yet been introduced, although I have heard many tales of you from our Captain and the Lady Natasha.”

Bucky was a little taken aback, as were most people upon first meeting Thor. “Uh, likewise?” he offered, which seemed to suffice as an answer, as Thor beamed and wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug, before cuffing him on his prosthetic arm and heading off in search of Pop Tarts.

Bucky’s head was spinning, but he felt instantly welcomed and wanted. He looked over at Steve and Tasha. As she added the finishing touches to her egg dish, she gave him one of those looks of hers which spoke volumes. This one was full of warmth, her eyes betraying her relief that introductions had gone well. Steve was smiling, giving Bucky that easy grin which he knew so well, and he piled up the food onto platters before bringing it to the table.

“I told you they’d like you,” he chided softly, as he steered Bucky to a seat as the others brought their offerings too.

Tony sat himself on Bucky’s left, Clint on his right contributing an almost obscene amount of pancakes. Clint caught his look of astonishment and chuckled. “You haven’t seen Thor eat, have you? Fill your plate early, because there won’t be any left in a minute,” he advised.

Bucky nodded. He knew how to make sure you held on to food: grab it early and guard it carefully. He knew he wasn’t in the orphanage any more, or under food rationing, but old habits die hard.

As the dishes came around, Bucky made sure he grabbed plenty of everything, and dug in with enthusiasm. Coffee flowed like it was water, and the amount that Tony drank made Bucky suspect it had actually replaced water in his body. Happy chatter washed over Bucky, and he answered and asked questions as the opportunities arose. This was as close to family as he’d felt in a long time, and he’d only known these people for a few hours.

When everyone had eaten as much as physically possible, the dishes had been cleared, and they were all draped over various pieces of furniture in the living area, Tony turned to Clint.

“Now can I pester him?” he wheedled.

Clint rolled his eyes and looked at Bucky, who shrugged his shoulders in assent. Tony whooped and pulled Bucky to his feet.

“Come with me kid, the toys I’ve got to show you will blow your mind,” he said, dragging Bucky to the labs. Bucky looked back at Tasha, mouthing ‘help me’, but she just laughed and left him to his fate.

The elevator opened onto the whole floor, which Tony had covered in shiny surfaces, screens with scrolling data, and various bits of metal which would look more at home in a garage. Bucky looked around, his mouth falling open a little. What kind of world was this now? Wait...were those robots? A long pole with three...fingers he guessed, rolled towards him, reaching out towards his prosthetic arm.

Tony whistled sharply through his teeth. “DUM-E, how many times, we do not molest the guests! Go...tidy over there,” he said, waving a hand at the far side of the lab without really looking. The robot dropped its head with a little whistle which almost sounded sad, and rolled away again.

By the time Bucky turned around, Tony had moved again, and was over by a large screen/table hybrid waving his fingers over it and muttering to himself.

“Ah ha!” he cried triumphantly, pulling up what looked like a picture of an arm except it was 3D, spinning it around with a flick of his finger.

“So what do you think?” he asked, glee in his voice and his eyes lit up.

Bucky didn’t know what to think. Was this for him? Had Tony spent time and effort creating something for someone he didn’t even know? Bucky stepped forward and tentatively poked at the arm, which caused the components to scatter.

The metal plating, which formed the outside of the arm, looked remarkably similar to that of the Iron Man suit, expanded to the edges of this invisible frame leaving the core exposed. There was wiring mimicking the human nervous system, from a beautiful interface at the shoulder right down to the fingertips. It looked like it would respond just a normal arm. His Russian one was good, a feat of engineering at the time, but Bucky could tell this one would be so much better.

His heart was lodged in his throat. Kindness and generosity weren’t something he’d experienced much of in the past 70 years.

He turned to Tony, suddenly aware he’d been quiet for a long time and hadn’t answered the question. He opened his mouth to respond, but found the words were stuck. How do you begin to thank someone for something so huge?

Tony, who had been watching him cautiously, was suddenly all brash and noise.

“Not quite your style? I should have checked first. We’ll start over, but you have to let me do something, because frankly that heap of junk attached to you right now offends my eyes. Right, so let’s just scrap this and start again,” he blustered.

He went to wave his arm over the scattered shapes, but Bucky caught it, fingers closing around Tony’s wrist. Tony shot him a puzzled look.

“It’s more than I could’ve ever dreamed; it’s more than I deserve. It’s beautiful,” he said quietly, sincerely.

“Well let’s talk colors then!” replied Tony with a grin, as he returned to the pieces and flicked up a color chart.

//

Two weeks later, Bucky was called into SHIELD HQ by Coulson, but was surprised when they bypassed Coulson’s office and headed straight to Fury’s.

“Sir?” questioned Bucky.

“Trust me, Barnes.”

And, to Bucky’s surprise, he found that he did. Not to the same degree that he trusted Tasha and Steve, but enough to know that this man had his best interests at heart. Coulson had been a constant presence in his life since he was first brought in, a face in meetings, a voice over the intercom, a steady presence at his side.

“Agent Barnes,” greeted Fury, as they entered his inner sanctum. “I believe you’re ready.”

“Ready, sir?” asked Bucky.

“I’m making you an active Agent. You’ll be assigned Specialist status and given the appropriate clearance level. Agent Coulson will be your handler, just as he is for Agents Barton and Romanoff.”

Bucky had never quite thought this day would come, but as he signed form after form, the reality sunk in. This was it. He was really in. Some small part of his brain had always thought that perhaps SHIELD would have him killed. That he was too much of a risk to keep alive, let alone on the payroll. Yet here he was, being handed a pass and a briefing pack and he knew he had a goofy grin on his face, but honestly, he didn’t care.

He’d barely stepped back inside the Tower, when Tony called him down to the basement.

“I hear you’re being trusted with the safety of the nation now, Barnes,” he said, shoving his goggles up to the top of his head. “Don’t you think you ought to be equipped to do so?”

“I guess?” said Bucky cautiously. “What’ve you got in mind?”

“Something like this,” replied Tony, hitting a button on the holotable.

Another arm sprang up, same specs as his current one, but at the edges Bucky could see armaments. Down the outside, stopping just above the elbow were what looked like large bullets, but Bucky knew they were the same class of weapon Tony had fitted to his armor. One of these was enough to take out a tank. There were darts in the fingers, the inside of his upper arm housed the smallest pair of night-vision glasses he’d ever seen, there was a coil of wire with a tiny grappling hook inside his forearm.

“Tony,” he breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

“I know, right? Of course it is, I made it. Now scoot, I’ve got work to do if you’re going to be tricked out.”


	2. Chapter 2

It turned out that being an active agent meant attending a lot of meetings, briefings, and updates on various ongoing missions, the status of regimes, current and emerging threats, and so on. Bucky was pleased to discover he could retain an awful lot of what was said without paying too much active attention. Apparently one of the side effects of being pumped full of various experimental chemicals was increased information retention, and hey, he’d take that bonus!

One day, though, he walked into a meeting room where he was met by Tasha, Clint, and Coulson, who closed the door behind him and handed him a file. “It’s time to put you in the field, Agent.” Which is how Bucky found himself deep in the Rockies, lying face down in a pile of rocks and dirt with Tasha at his side, Clint watching their six, and Coulson in his ear monitoring everything from a van parked safely a few miles away.

“Haven’t people gotten tired of the whole mountain lair thing yet?” he grumbled under his breath. “I mean, they’re not the most accessible of things, there’s fuck all cell service, can you even get WiFi out here? How do they get anything done?” Bucky had taken to technology like a duck to water, and he and Steve would often spend their spare time learning about the latest equipment SHIELD had sent over.

Tasha looked at him out of the corner of her eye, not taking her focus from the doorway they were watching. “A classic’s a classic for a reason, Barnes. We’ve got very little intel on what it’s like in there, just that this crackpot’s increased activity at the base significantly in the past month, so wouldn’t you say he’s doing well with his mountain lair?” she hissed. “Besides, you can get a lot done under a mountain, or have you not read Stark’s file?”

Bucky huffed a sigh. Of course he’d read the file, and he knew why bases in mountains were so damn popular – he just didn’t like to think about them too much, he hardly had the best track record with them. 

The thought reared again in his head, the one he’d been trying to push down ever since he’d signed his forms. What if he couldn’t cope? He couldn’t let them all down, not after all they’d done for him, invested in him. Visits to the psychologist had helped somewhat, and he knew he had it mentally together enough that he wasn’t going to have a breakdown mid-mission, but he knew he’d only truly feel confident in his abilities once he was back in the van, a job well done.

“Breathe, Barnes,” came Coulson’s voice, calm and measured as always – a port in a storm. Bucky snuck a glance at Tasha and she hadn’t reacted, so Coulson was using a private comm link. “Stay with us, we’re almost ready.”

Bucky double-tapped his earpiece in acknowledgement, and ran over the mission in his head again.

On Coulson’s signal, Clint would take out the guards patrolling the vehicular access gate (the only one they’d been able to locate on satellite imagery), giving Tasha and Bucky an estimated thirty minutes to get down from their ledge and inside, grab the intel, and get out before the guard was changed.

“On your mark Barton. We’ve done as much as we can to boost the comms’ signal strength, but we may lose you inside, Agents,” said Coulson. Tasha double-tapped her earpiece, and both she and Bucky raised themselves slightly from the ground, muscles taut and ready for their descent down the scree. It would be messy, but it was their only option.

Clint’s voice appeared in his ear, sure and steady. “In 3...2...1,” and then Bucky saw the five guards fall to the ground one by one, arrows protruding from their necks.

And then there was no more time for thinking; his body just reacted. He and Tasha sprang up and slithered down the mountainside, rolling their landings in almost perfect unison and slipping inside the small door cut into the double doors for vehicles.

Once inside, they melted into the shadows and assessed their surroundings. They were in a large warehouse, two rows of five large cargo trucks sat silently. Clearly, this guy was planning on shipping out a lot of something, whatever he was doing in here. Tasha tapped his arm and indicated a door on the far side of the room. He followed her, staying pressed against the walls, and watched as she picked the lock with tools that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Pistols drawn, they flanked the door, and as Tasha dropped the last finger of her countdown, he twisted the handle and they slipped through, instinctively covering one another. But there was no one. A look between them communicated how weird they thought this was, but they pressed on. They’d both been inside enough of these places to know any control information hub was going to be deep inside the complex, but the only way to get there was down a never-ending maze of corridors.

Corridors were dangerous. You were enclosed, there was nowhere to run, but fighting back to back had always been his and Tasha’s specialty way back when. Their prowess came from knowing each other so well they could predict how the other fought, where they’d move, and when they needed cover to reload. Tasha squeezed his arm and he nodded. They had this. So they proceeded, back to back, their route based only on instinct, until they reached a door behind which they could hear the whirring of computers. This time it was Bucky who went in first. A man in a lab coat, who was sitting in front of a bank of monitors, got up so quickly that he knocked over his chair, and rushed at Bucky. There was training apparent from his movements, but Bucky was quicker and knocked him out with one left hook.

“And you didn’t shoot him because...?” asked Tasha, as she locked the door and tied up the unconscious man.

“No need,” replied Bucky tersely. “I’ve killed enough people without reason; this guy wasn’t even armed. He won’t wake up until long after we’ve gone.”

With that, he turned his attention to the screens. Two on the left were CCTV feeds, and showed why there was no one in the corridors. Bucky could see a massive firefight going down between guards and what looked to be at least a hundred robots. Tasha peered over his shoulder and hissed a curse in Russian.

“We need to get out of here, before the guards break.”

Bucky was already accessing the hard drive, and quickly found his way to the relevant files, extending the USB cable tucked inside his wrist and downloading the data into the storage device Tony had installed somewhere in his arm.

“James, we have to go,” Tasha snapped.

He turned to look at her, and shit, they were in trouble. The robots had broken past the last line of the guards’ defence and were heading towards the only exit. He disconnected from the computer and drew his weapon.

“You ready to run, Tasha?” he asked, a light in his eyes, heart pumping. It was like old times.  
She pulled her own handguns and nodded, mouth set in a firm line. “Let’s go.”

There was no time for care in their exit. They ran, the route easy now, chancing glances over their shoulders as they heard the sound of metal marching towards them. As they got closer to the exit, they heard the crackle of the comms unit as they came back into range.

“Coming out hot, Coulson,” Tasha warned. “You’re going to have to blow the exit, company’s coming.”

“Roger that. Barton, on your mark,” he replied, unruffled.

“Yes sir,” confirmed Clint. As they fell through the door into the hangar Bucky fired at the bots, which were only a couple of hundred metres behind.

They slammed the door closed behind them and sprinted through the trucks, diving out of the front door, skidding on the loose earth as they cornered, and headed up the vehicle access road.

Bucky dimly heard Clint’s call for the shot, but definitely felt the explosions as the doors were blown in behind him.

“Evac will be with you in ten minutes, Agents; sit tight.”

Tasha and Bucky slid to the ground, leaning against the sheer rock face, heads resting together, breathing hard. An arrow attached to a zipline embedded itself above their heads . Clint landed next to them moments later.

“Did you get it?” he asked, dropping down beside them and taking a long swig from his water bottle.

“Did I get it? Barton I’m almost insulted. It’s all in here,” Bucky replied, tapping his arm. The rumble of an approaching truck had them on their feet in seconds, waiting to see if it was SHIELD-issued or not.

“Stand down, Agents,” said Coulson through the comms, “and get in.”

“You couldn’t open the door for us? Getting old are we?” grumbled Clint good-naturedly, as they buckled in.

Coulson gave him a Look – one that they’d clearly honed over the years - which Bucky interpreted as the ‘Are we still making quips about my age?’ Look. Clint grinned through a mouthful of cereal bar he’d dug out from somewhere, and Coulson rolled his eyes.

Bucky smiled, too, as relief washed over him. He’d done it. He’d completed his mission, he hadn’t fucked up or freaked out. Tasha squeezed his arm, reading his mind like she’d always been able to. Maybe he could make a decent go of this SHIELD Agent business after all, he thought, as he let the gentle motion of the van lull him to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The lights blazed at full brightness and Bucky squinted, before suffering a minor heart attack as a sudden klaxon sounded throughout the Avengers Tower. When it stopped, Coulson’s voice came through the speakers. “Assemble, SHIELD, now.”

“What the – ,” asked Bucky, as he threw on some clothes, and grabbing his arm and the mission bag he kept in the wardrobe at all times, he hurtled his way to the elevator. He found Tasha and Steve holding the doors open for him.

“What the hell’s going on?” asked Bucky, attaching his arm as they descended to Bruce’s floor.  
“No idea,” replied Steve, who looked annoyingly perky given it was 4am. “But for Coulson to hack JARVIS it must be bad.”

“I was merely circumnavigated Captain Rogers,” interrupted the AI.

“Of course JARVIS, sorry,” said Steve, looking a little abashed.

“Tasha?” asked Bucky.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly, “but Clint missed his last check-in.”

They all fell silent, thinking what this might mean as they picked up Bruce and then descended to the garage and chose an SUV, Tasha driving like there were no other cars in New York City. Thankfully, at this time of day that was almost true. Tony met them in the lobby, having parked the armour in a corner.

“Fury’s boardroom,” he said, as he called the elevator. Out of all of them, he looked the most awake, but Bucky realised he probably hadn’t been to sleep yet.

They walked in and were faced with Fury, who right now was living up to his name, and a stony-faced Coulson who wordlessly gestured at the seats around the table. The look in Coulson’s eyes unsettled Bucky – he was present, but something in his brain was whirring furiously.

Fury stood up.

“We have reason to believe that Agent Barton and Erik Selvig have been captured by HYDRA operatives.”

The atmosphere in the room changed in an instant. Steve stiffened in his chair, ready to assume his mantle as leader; Bruce momentarily clenched his fists, before laying his hands palm down on his knees, closing his eyes; Tony had immediately brought up something on his tablet and started fervently tapping at the screen; and Tasha, well Bucky could feel her reaction. Her hands itched for her weapons, her feet wanted to take her to the nearest jet and find him.

Suddenly, the building shook as violent winds whipped around it. Moments later, Thor strode into the room.

“We will find our shield brother and Erik Selvig. They shall not suffer again,” he vowed as he took his seat.

“We have unconfirmed intel that they’re in Eastern Europe. As soon as we have a location, you’ll be dropped in. The Helicarrier will be ready to fly at 0500. Be on the roof in 10.”

With that, Fury swept out, followed by Coulson. Bucky couldn’t get over the change in Coulson’s demeanour. He knew he and Clint had history, deep and murky, which gave strength to their relationship, the kind that is only won in battle. It struck Bucky that there was something more there, but he couldn’t think about that now.

He turned to Tasha, “We’ll find him, Tasha,” he said softly.

She looked back at him, eyes burning, on the edge of snapping, but then she reigned it back in. “We have to,” she agreed, her voice almost inaudible. “I can’t lose him again.”

//

 

The ride out to the carrier, which was sitting just inside international waters, felt like an eternity. Bucky and Clint had grown quite close since that first mission, and along with Tasha, had been sent on various missions together.

Columbia had cemented their friendship, though. They’d been sent in to break up a child smuggling ring, but once they landed, fresh intel indicated the children were being brainwashed into becoming child soldiers and working for the organisation which took them. To say this hadn’t sat well with Bucky would be an understatement.

They were told to wait for back up, that the situation was too uncertain, but Bucky had flared at this. They had no idea if the kids would be safer waiting for more SHIELD operatives to get on the ground. The kids could be irreparably fucked up by the time they got in!

He’d turned from the group and run, throwing his earpiece away so he couldn’t hear Coulson shouting in his ear. He wasn’t aware of Clint on his heels or Tasha cursing as she secured the perimeter, he could only think of the getting to the kids before something happened to them.  
He’d taken down guard after guard, not noticing the bullets that grazed his shoulder and thigh. When he arrived at the last locked door, he’d blasted it open and found 40 children, all under 10 years old he guessed, staring up at him, their faces streaked with tears. It was only then, as he stopped, that he became aware of Clint at his back, urging him to move because backup for all the dead men in the hallway had been sighted five minutes out. They’d hurried the children out, instructions issued in every language they knew between them, because frankly, who knew where these kids were from? Once outside, and with SHIELD personnel securing the area and taking the children to medical, Bucky realised how utterly stupid he’d been. He’d slipped away and climbed a tree, where he could keep an eye on what played out below.

 _Shit_ , he thought from his perch, _what the fuck did I just do? They’re never going to let me go on a mission again. Well done Barnes, you’ve really screwed up the best thing that’s happened to you in the last 60 years_.

His mind had started racing, simultaneously trying to think of a way to talk to Coulson about this, while also planning out escape routes and dredging up his contact list of slightly dubious associates who could help him lie low. The creak of a branch had brought him back to the present and Bucky had turned to see Clint perched on the other side of the trunk.

“Planning your escape?” he’d asked. “I’ve been there, right after I brought in Tasha. That was never the mission; she was supposed to die that day, but something in my gut said no and it turned out to be the best call I ever made. Coulson was furious, though. I thought he was going to eviscerate me on the spot, but he didn’t. And he won’t do it to you either. I can tell he’s worried about you; he’s been shouting in my ear since you threw your ‘wig away. Besides, you really think Tasha will let you go? She’d hunt you down and make you wish Coulson _had_ eviscerated you.”

He’d paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, more earnest.

“I know what it’s like, to be unmade. To watch what your body’s doing, while inside you’re screaming for it to stop. I understand why you did what you did. And everyone else does, too. Just, next time you’re going to go off book, maybe give us a heads up? Because it’s much easier to have your back if we’re not sprinting after it.”

Bucky had sat for a minute, letting it all sink in.

“How bad’s it going to be?” he’d asked eventually.

“Pretty bad,” Clint had replied honestly, “but it’s nothing you can’t survive. Come on, they’re shipping out and I’m not walking back to base because of your sorry ass.”

With that, he swung out of the tree and stood, looking up at Bucky.

//

Looking back on it, Clint had been right. The dressing down he’d gotten had been horrendous, the punishment tough, but he was still here, they still trusted him, and now it was his turn to help Clint.

They went straight from the flight deck to the boardroom, one set back from the bridge this time, as they were told Coulson had new developments. They’d only been seated for a minute when Coulson walked in, accompanied by a junior agent, who distributed files and then disappeared as quickly as possible. Bucky didn’t blame her; the tension in the room was unbearable.

Coulson flicked on the display screen, which brought up satellite imagery of a forest. He zoomed in, settling on a large building with a dirt track leading from the door out into the trees.

“This was built in 1941 in the Polish section of the Białoweiża Forest by HYDRA. A cover story was circulated that Göring built a hunting lodge out here to keep interest low and limit access to only those with the highest clearance. We never found out what HYDRA intended to use it for, and after the war, it appeared to be forgotten about. Regular scans of the area picked up nothing for decades, until six months ago when activity was detected. We’ve been monitoring it, but didn’t believe there was anything warranting action until yesterday when we picked up a radiation spike. The markings are similar to those given off by the portal opened for the Chitauri. The kidnap of Barton and Selvig indicates the possibility that HYDRA are attempting to recreate the same portal, potentially with a synthesised Tesseract, and believe their experiences with Loki will assist in the stabilisation.”

Reactions rippled around the table. Tony had gone pale, Thor was furious, Steve and Banner were muttering to one another, and Tasha just stared at Coulson, her eyes steely.

“Until we know for certain what we’re dealing with, this is a stealth mission. Barnes, Romanoff, you’re going in first. We need intel. I can’t blow a hole in Eastern Europe without a reason. The rest of you are staying on board until we know what we’re facing. ETA is 4 hours 12 minutes. Get some rest. Agents, my office in 3 hours.”

With that, Coulson turned on his heel and left.

All of Bucky’s things were in his quarters when he arrived. Someone had been to the armoury for him, and his desk was covered in handguns, clips, and knives (he’d brought his own, of course, but these would serve as a decent back-up). His field suit hung on the back of the door, boots at the end of the bed. He was all set.

The door opened and Tony breezed in.

“You don’t knock?” asked Bucky.

“Pfft,” said Tony, waving a hand, “no secrets among teammates, right Barnes? Anyway, I need your arm, or rather the hard drive. I need you to help us gain access to their systems, so I’m just uploading a programme,” he said, attaching Bucky’s arm to his tablet and tapping away at the screen.

“A virus? You’re putting a virus in my arm?” asked Bucky nervously.

“Relax, it’s not going to hurt you! When you get to a workstation, and pray to Thor they’re networked, just plug in your USB connector and press this button.”

With that, Tony flipped open a panel on the inside of Bucky’s upper arm and pointed at one of the four in there.

“Then, I should be in and we can see what the hell they’re up to,” he finished, wrapping up his stuff and making for the door. He stopped, one hand on the doorknob.

“Be safe, okay Barnes? You know what those bastards are capable of. Give them hell, and you better come back in one piece because I will not be pleased if they get their hands on my tech.”  
There was a different tone to his voice, one Bucky hadn’t heard before. Bucky had always seen Tony as brash and assured, all red and gold and blaring guitar riffs, but this was different. Now he was caring and cautious.

“Sure thing, Stark,” nodded Bucky.

Tony took the assurance and left, and Bucky flopped on the bed, hoping sleep would come. When, as expected, it didn’t, he spent the time he had meticulously checking his weapons and running over every panel in his arm. He had to be prepared; he could not be the weak link in their team.

When the time came he put on his uniform, stowing his gear all over his body, and met Tasha on her way to Coulson’s office. They walked in silence, and all Bucky could hear was the dull thud of his heartbeat in his ears and their boots on the floor.

Coulson’s office door was open, and the man sat opposite at his desk, head bowed as he flicked through the contents a manilla folder. He looked weary, Bucky thought as he closed the door. How long had it been since he slept? They took seats by the desk and waited.

Coulson took an aerial shot of the forest out of the file and spun it around to face them. “Agents, the dense nature of the forest means there is only one way to get you in safely and quickly. Stark is going to drop you, literally, into this clearing, 2 klicks west of the facility,” he said, pointing at a clear patch of earth amongst the trees. “You will get in, patch us into their systems, and get Barton and Selvig out.”

They both nodded, and Bucky knew in that moment that Coulson trusted him to bring these men back alive. He could have chosen any Agent for this mission, but he’d picked Bucky, and Bucky knew how great a responsibility he was taking on. He wouldn’t let Coulson down.

Once dismissed, he and Tasha spent their remaining time examining every detail of every available image they had of the place they were breaking into - satellite; radar; infra-red; hell, someone had even dug out the old sepia-tinted ground images taken in the ‘50s. Then, all of a sudden, it was time.

They met Tony on the flight deck. The Helicarrier was as low as it could go without making the trees rustle, which, Bucky thought as he peered over the edge, was still pretty damn high.  
“You have a plan, Stark?” asked Tasha sharply.

“Barrel of monkeys. If I can do it with 13 people who’ve just been sucked out of a plane, I’m sure you two will be just fine. I can slow us down enough that you’ll think you’re wearing chutes,” he said as he walked over to the edge of the deck, snapping his faceplate down. “Ready?” he asked, holding out his hands.

They grasped on to one another, took a breath, and stepped off the edge. Bucky felt the wind whip at him and he was almost certain he was going to die. After all, the last time he’d fallen so far it had gone spectacularly badly for him. But before he could think about this any further, he felt their pace slow rapidly as the suit’s stabilisers kicked in. He heard Tony in his ear, counting down to the drop off, and then he was on his own, falling the last ten feet and thinking only about a safe landing.

He and Tasha both landed safely, rolling instantly into the tree line.

"Status?" asked Coulson, clear and level as always.

"On the ground, on our way," replied Tasha, as she squeezed Bucky's arm and they headed towards the target.

-

They reached the edge of the trees surrounding the building, and looked across the 500 meters of open ground which stretched between them and the way in.

Lying down in the shrubbery, they watched the three guards circle the building and assessed their point of entry once more. Given that they had no idea what lay inside, a door had been chosen at random. The windows were blacked out so well that none of their gear could help them out. They had to go in blind.

They watched one guard pass the door, and when the next appeared Tasha hopped up into a crouch and took them both out with knives that flew from her hands as straight and true as any bullet.

They sprinted across the gap, each pausing only to retrieve a knife from the throats of their felled opponents.

They waited for the third guard to appear, and as soon as he rounded the corner, he found himself with a severed jugular, courtesy of another of Tasha’s knives. They dragged the bodies towards them and then turned their attention to the door.

Bucky tried the handle, Tasha at his side, and found it unlocked. Guess these guys thought they were safe out here. There was no time to check what was beyond the door; who knew if they'd already been detected?

They took a breath, looked at each other and, upon silent agreement, breached the threshold.  
Instinctively they each dove to the side, flanking the door, but no shots were fired, so Bucky cautiously looked around the chair he'd used as cover.

They'd stepped into the guards' bunkhouse which, Bucky could tell, only took up half of the square footage of the lodge. He went to stand up, when Tasha reeled off a set of hand signals, ones they hadn't used in years.

 _Three men. Sleeping. Left hand side_.

Internally Bucky cursed himself for not hearing their breathing, his view of them having been compromised by a screen. He pushed the self-destructive thoughts to one side in his mind and looked over at Tasha.

She pulled out a blade and crept over to the beds, feet placed precisely so as to remain undetected, and slit the men's throats. Three less opponents, Bucky thought as he watched her wipe the knife clean on the bed sheets and tuck it away. They rolled up the bodies in the bedsheets, brought in the three from outside, and hid them as best they could behind some quickly arranged furniture. It was messy, but as good a job as they could manage in the time they had.

A quick scout around the room yielded no computers or maps of the base, so they were still flying blind.

The only way out was a door diagonally opposite the one they'd come in by. They pressed their ears up against the wood but could hear nothing so they took the plunge and opened the door. They were faced with another door which would take them to the other half of the lodge and a metal spiral staircase. Down was clearly the more likely route to finding Clint and Selvig so they paused at the top of the stairs, ears straining for any sounds of life beneath. There was nothing but they crept down the stairs silently anyway. They reached the bottom and found themselves in a corridor that was empty except for a door immediately to their right. Bucky’s hopes were raised by what sounded like the dull hum of a computer coming from behind the door. 

A quick flick of his lock-picking equipment got them inside, and Bucky set to work on the computer, remembering all of Stark’s instructions and muttering a little entreaty to Thor because hey, it couldn’t hurt right? They waited anxiously for a moment or two, staring at the locked screen of the PC, until the image suddenly glitched and they were in. A box popped up in the corner, Tony sending his greetings, and within a matter of minutes the base schematics had appeared. It was the best they had, seeing as apparently Hydra hadn't bothered with CCTV here, confident they were safe in their country retreat.

The corridor they were in had stairs at either end. The set furthest from them led directly into a big empty space which, Tony noted, they were probably using for the portal construction. The set nearest them led down to labs, but then the floor below that was clearly labelled ‘Gefängniszelle’ - cells. They had to hope Clint and Selvig were down there and not already in the portal room.

The image on the screen changed to a series of scrolling numbers; Bucky thought they looked like calculations he'd seen in Bruce's lab. A message from Tony put them on the clock. He estimated they had 20 minutes until the portal was established, which left them 18 minutes until the Helicarrier would drop a bomb on the facility. Bucky quickly typed an acknowledgement, before he and Tasha headed for the stairs.

Bucky hated infiltration by staircase; it left you with nowhere to hide, but it was their only way down. He took point, gun drawn, and as he approached, he felled two guards with silenced shots to the back of the head. As he stooped to pick up the keycard to the cells, he said a couple of words in absolution. He knew they'd have shot him, too, but it didn't make kill or be killed any easier. 

Tasha stood by his side as they looked at a corridor of around 20 cells. There was no way to tell who was where, or how many of these were occupied, so they were left with process of elimination. They headed right, and upon reaching the end of the corridor, began opening hatches in the doors. Doors 1-5 proved a bust, all empty, but behind door 6 Bucky found Clint. 

He tapped Tasha, and opened the door. Clint looked bruised and battered, grimy, and carrying some sort of rib injury from the way he was standing, but he was alive. Tasha looked him square in the eye, searching, and then nodded, satisfied with who she had found. She pressed a pistol into his hand and ushered him out. 

The three of them opened door after door, until number 17 gave them Selvig. He looked tired, less bruised than Clint, but capable of running, and from the noises above, Bucky thought this would be necessary. 

He led them in a line, Tasha at his back, then Selvig, and Clint bringing up the rear. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, bringing up a fist to halt the group. 

Boots clattered down the stairs, four men Bucky thought. He raised four fingers and then stepped out, Tasha behind him like a shadow, and the two of them fired. Four men fell and the group ran. 

They retraced Bucky and Tasha's steps, down the corridor and back to the spiral staircase. They ascended cautiously, but quickly, on tiptoe, Bucky’s gun pointed upwards, heart beating too quickly in his chest. He knew they only had five minutes left. As he reached the top, he heard gunshots from below. He opened the door into the guards’ room, and ushered Tasha and Selvig inside as Clint followed.

“Five more any second now,” Clint said, and Bucky didn’t hesitate. He pushed Clint into the room and pulled out a very tiny but powerful grenade from the set on his belt and dropped it down the stairs. He dove through the doorway and yelled at them all to run.

They tumbled out of the doorway and ran for the treeline, the minor explosion echoing behind them .

“Clear!” shouted Tasha into her comms, as they passed into the forest, aiming for the clearing where Tony had dropped them off. They heard the distinctive noise of a Quinjet as they approached, and four cords dropped down as the ‘jet hovered above the trees. They all grabbed on, letting themselves be winched in.

As the doors closed and they strapped in for the quick hop to the Helicarrier, a streak of light outside caught their eye. A missile drove itself straight into the center of the base and a shimmering half-sphere formed over it. They saw and heard the explosion but no debris flew out.

“What the hell was that?” asked Bucky.

“Stark’s been working on some fancy containment shield thing,” came Steve’s voice from the cockpit. “Guess it was time for a test run.”

Bucky’s head whipped around. “You’re flying the bird, Cap? Isn’t your track record a little sketchy?” he joked.

Steve rolled his eyes. He’d heard the joke so many times now. “I’m a damn fine pilot, Bucky Barnes. Now sit down and shut up or else I’ll corkscrew us all the way to the carrier.”

“You’re never going to forgive me for that time at Coney Island, are you?” Bucky asked with a grin.

“Nope,” said Steve, as he landed them smoothly on deck. “Now you’re all wanted in debrief ASAP.”

As they disembarked, Tasha bumped her arm against his.

“Well done, Buck,” she said quietly. “You did a hell of a job.”

“You too, Tash,” he replied. “Hey, we really did do it, huh?” And as the realization dawned on him, that he’d proven himself, that he’d rescued his team mates, that he was accepted and useful and loved, a swell of elation burst forth within him.

He whooped and ran to Clint, who was a few paces ahead, leaping on his back and ruffling his hair.

“Yeah buddy!” he shouted before taking off in a series of cartwheels and handsprings, ending with a beautiful round off.

He looked back at his team, grinning as the wind blew in his hair. He hadn’t felt this good about what he did, and who he got to do it with, in as long as he could remember. He started back towards them but only got a couple of paces before he saw Steve and Tasha look at each other and start their own tumbling routine towards him. He knew Tasha could do it, hell he taught her half of it, but certainly not the full twisting layout she landed at his feet. And Steve, well he wasn’t as delicate as Tasha, but there was power and grace to his movements, more than Bucky had ever seen.

“You’re not the only one who’s got some moves, Buck,” laughed Steve, as he and Tasha each slipped an arm around his waist and started walking back to the group, all of whom were eye-rolling a little.

“And if I hadn’t been stuck in a cell for the past 48 hours, you’d all have been put to shame,” joked Clint, wincing a little as bruised ribs protested. “The Amazing Hawkeye would have done all that blindfolded and with one hand.”

“Alright, circus boy, you’re on. Next time we’re both injury-free, bring it on,” said Bucky, as they made their way to the boardroom.

“I’ll make you wish you hadn’t said that, Barnes.”

“If we’ve all quite finished our little ‘Bring It On’ routines, can we maybe get down to business?” asked Fury as he strode in, followed by Coulson who was clearly trying to smother a smirk.

“I didn’t have you pegged as a cheerleading fan, Director. JARVIS, make a note?” said Tony, as he shed the armour.

“Of course, sir,” replied the AI.

“The things you don’t know about me, Stark, could fill volumes. Now, to business. Agent Barton, do you mind starting at the beginning?”

Bucky tuned out, listening with half an ear for his name to be called, and looked around the table at everyone. He realised he felt the same way about this team as he had about the Commandos, so long ago. These people were his team mates, his friends, his family - fierce, loyal and kind and he knew then that he had a place here, for as long as he wanted it.


End file.
